


Filthy Little Mudblood

by HermioneQueenOfGreen



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Foul Language, Rape Throughout, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-01-25
Packaged: 2018-05-16 04:53:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5814994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HermioneQueenOfGreen/pseuds/HermioneQueenOfGreen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Walking home in the dark has never been a problem for the Brightest Witch of her Age. Until now. Rated Explicit for rape, violence and foul language</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The First Time

It was raining again; it always rained in London nowadays. Hermione was heading home after yet another long shift at the Ministry. A simple charm was the only thing stopping the rain seep into her clothing. She wouldn't have to hold the spell up for much longer though; she was coming up to the Leaky Cauldron, where she could safely Floo home. After a break in at the Ministry, the fireplaces in the Atrium had all been sealed off, so that wasn't an option for the foreseeable future. This was why Hermione was walking home yet again.

She ordered a small glass of Firewhisky to warm her up before heading back into the rain. Gulping it down she stood up and headed towards the back of the pub where the entrance to Diagon Ally could be found. She tapped the bricks with her wand and passed through, not before creating another spell to protect her from the rain.

The streets were deserted, which was the norm for this time of night. She preferred it when it was quiet, it meant no forcing through crowds to get to her flat above what used to be Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. After Fred had died, George had closed the business down because he just couldn't run the shop without his scheming twin brother.

She was fishing out her key so didn't notice the footsteps in the dark. She also didn't notice the figure step out from the shadows behind her. It was too late to scream when a hand covered her mouth. It was too late to fight as she was hit with a body-bind curse. It was too late for anything. She was helpless against her attacker.

She felt herself being pulled into the shadows, but before she was gone completely from the night she noticed a flash of blonde, and the pale skin of a man she hadn't set eyes on since the war.

Even though she couldn't move her body, she could still feel pain, and her attacker was causing her agony. She was tossed to the ground and her hands were bound above her head. She could feel the skin scraping off where her arms rubbed the cold concrete.

Her rain resistance spell had broken when she was grabbed and she was soon drenched and freezing. She felt her shirt cling to her cold skin, and knew that it was turning see-through.

She saw a gleam in her attackers eyes as he gazed down at her form. Her bra was clearly visible through her now sheer top, and he was enjoying the view. But apparently it wasn't good enough. The felt the knife tear through cloth and soon she was exposed completely. Her shirt fell apart and her bra was in tatters around her. If she could, she would have wept right there. But she couldn't even sob.

She was so helpless; the brightest witch of her age was helpless. Her attacker revelled in that fact. Of course he knew her, he had tormented her all through her life at Hogwarts, and now he was tormenting her again, and he loved it. It made her sick to her stomach, that look of glee in his eyes. It made her sick.

He didn't stop with her shirt though. His knife cut through her trousers and pants soon enough. She thought she felt the knife go through flesh too, but she couldn't be sure. She was naked, completely exposed, and the rain felt like daggers against her skin.

She felt the body bind curse lift, but what kept her so still was the fear that coursed through her veins; fear of her attacker, and worse still, her death.

Hands were suddenly on her thighs, dragging her legs apart. No, please no. She couldn't cry out, they caught in her throat. Her failed attempts at cries seemed to make him stronger. His fingers quickly undid the button on his jeans, and they were soon around his ankles. His boxers fell soon after and he returned to where Hermione lay, trembling more with pain and fear than with cold.

She didn't even feel when he entered her; she didn't acknowledge the sting of him thrusting into her. She didn't notice the blood tricking out of her as he broke her hymen. She did feel his orgasm as he reached his climax; she did feel the semen flow inside her as he ejaculated; she did feel him thrust into her one last time before pulling out. Then she felt nothing. Her fear had washed away, briefly. The knife was in his hand again, and she pleaded in her mind, begged for him to kill her. But he didn't; he walked away, laughing at the brightest witch of her age, lying defeated in the dirt.

This time she did manage to cry out. But who would hear her now? Who would care? She was just a filthy little mudblood, and that was all she would ever be, especially in the eyes of Draco Malfoy. He whistled as he pulled up his trousers, and his humming continued as he walked down the street towards the Leaky Cauldron for what he thought was a well deserved pint.


	2. Six Months

Cold. Scared. Alone. Ashamed. Harry and Ron had stopped trying to visit her. She had ignored them so often that they had finally stopped trying. She didn't want to see them, she didn't want them to see her, not like this: the monster growing inside her taking her small amounts of energy. She hated the thing. She hated what it was. She hated what it meant, what it reminded her of.

She hadn't eaten properly in months. She rarely washed, and sometimes she didn't even get out of bed. The bruises had long since faded, the cuts long ago healed, but she still couldn't face her reflection. She had smashed all of her mirrors, hating so much the picture of the battered child staring back at her: the matted hair, the skin covered in scars; she couldn't face the images that triggered flashbacks of a night all those months ago.

Lying in the dark, she feared sleep. Even now after so long. She could never fully close her eyes without being transported back.

The dark streets, the unrelenting rain, the voice of someone so familiar, the pain as she was flung to the ground, the knife that cut through her torn clothing, the blade that pierced her skin, the fear of death, the realisation that death would be kinder.

Haunted. Exhausted. Alone. Ashamed. She couldn't leave her house anymore. She flinched at loud noises, froze when she heard shouting on the street. She was constantly afraid that he would return.

Sometimes she would drift off to sleep, only to be awoken by shrieks and cries, only to realise that they were her own. Sometimes she awoke to find red streaks on her skin where her nails had dug in and scratched her. Always, she had dark circles under her eyes.

One night she awoke to her front door being blasted off its hinges. She jumped out of her bed and tried to force herself into the tight confines of her wardrobe, but it proved impossible with her swollen belly. She sprang towards the floor beneath her bed and managed to get her head and shoulders under before she got dragged out my the ankle.

Her worst nightmare realised, she found herself being lifted, kicking and screaming, and thrown onto the bed. Her head crashed into the headboard and she felt dazed. A warmth spread down to the back of her neck as her attacker showed his face.

The steely grey eyes were the first things she saw. Next came the blonde hair and the evil grin that spread across his face. The intense smell of alcohol was the last thing to register.

She fought him with all her might as he pinned her down. Her strength diminished quickly and once again her hands were tied above her head. All that she could do now was scream, but a sharp slap to the face quickly silenced her.

"Shut up you mudblood slut" was all he said. He didn't even bother with a knife this time: he ripped her clothes of with one hand. She cried out and this time he punched her. Every sound she made was met with violence as he plunged into her.

The pain was worse than last time, or so she thought. Her hips and thighs ached with the agonising onslaught, her arms were hurting from the lack of blood circulation when he clung to them, her head had stopped bleeding, but her face was battered from the thrashing of his fists.

His final sentence hung in the air until long after he had gone. "Lose some weight you fat bitch."

Battered. Broken. Alone. Ashamed.


	3. Ten Months Old

The baby was hungry again. Its cries could be heard from the other side of the apartment. She went to it, unbuttoning her shirt, ready to feed the child.

Her hatred had grown after the birth. She fed it, clothed it, clothed it, changed it, but she hated it. Hated the silvery blonde hair, the steely grey eyes. She hated how it cried at night, how it only stopped when she held it close to her chest.

Most of all she hated the fact that every time she looked at the child in her arms, the more she was reminded of its father and what he had done to her. She feared that the child would grow up with the personality to match the Malfoy looks.

She watched over the child as it played with the little mobile above its head. It was happy; it smiled lovingly at Hermione, but she couldn't smile back. No matter how hard she tried, she could not show love to the product of such monstrosity.

She sat in the armchair beside the baby's cot and tried to make herself comfortable as her child continued to play. Its little laughs and giggles echoed through the apartment, but Hermione soon fell asleep.

She didn't hear the front door open. She didn't hear the footsteps walking across her living room floor. She didn't hear those same footsteps passing the magically concealed door that led to the nursery. What she did hear was the voice of a man angry at not finding what he was looking for. She heard the loud crash as her bed was overturned.

"Expelliarmus," she whispered when she saw her attacker raise his wand to destroy her wardrobe. She caught it with her free hand and put it in her pocket. Not today, she thought to herself, you are not going to hurt me today. She was filled with a burning fury, of which she had never felt before, and with it she charged him with fire in her eyes and she punched him square in the face.

"No more Malfoy! You will not hurt me anymore! You will leave now and never come back! Get out!" The last word came out as a shriek. She went to punch him again, but he was quicker this time. He grabbed her clenched fist and threw her to the ground. She screamed as she landed, her arm hit the ground at a rough angle and the sound of bones breaking shattered through the room.

There was another cry, but this time it wasn't Hermione's. A single thought crossed her mind: the baby. She pulled herself up and ignoring the pain in her arm, ran to the sound. Malfoy had heard it too and he was walking towards the baby's room, a look of horror on his face.


	4. Three Years On

She had written to Harry and Ron three weeks ago begging them to let her explain why she had ignored them three years ago.

She had been sitting in a coffee shop in Diagon Alley for over an hour when she saw a tall man with black scruffy hair walking towards her with a beautiful red head beside him.

"Harry, I'm so very sorry, really I am. Please let me explain. I'm so sor-" Harry silenced her with a hug that lifted her off the ground. He told her to explain everything when Ron arrived, and when he did arrive, she was embraced in yet another hug.

She ordered some drinks for the boys, her boys, and told them the truth of those nights so long ago. She told them of the trauma that had ripped her apart from her sanity, told them of the hatred she felt, and told them of the gentle child that she had finally grown to love.

Ron broke the silence first, muttering death threats towards the Malfoy that had plagued their school lives for seven years. Harry stayed silent, absorbing the information. Ginny began to sob, and Hermione was calmly sipped a cup of tea she had recently ordered.

When Ron had calmed down, and Ginny had wiped her eyes, she decided that an introduction was to be made. She held up her hand in an unusual gesture, and a girl seemingly appeared out of nowhere: a girl with a penchant for wearing strange clothes and what looked like radish earrings. But for once, Luna Lovegood was not the focus of everyone's gaze. The small face peaking out from behind her legs had immediately drawn everyone's attention.

"Guys, meet William, my son." At the sound of his mother's voice, the little boy suddenly became a lot less shy and came out from behind Luna's legs.

"Hello!" He practically beamed at all the attention he was getting. "Mummy! Auntie Luna told me a story about a boy who fought a dragon! She said it's a true story, is it?" He started telling the story of a boy who flew around "Hoggorts" being chased by a "Hungry Horntail." They all looked at a bemused Harry, and Hermione pulled young William onto her lap. "I'd like to introduce you to Harry Potter, WIlliam. He's the boy from Auntie Luna's story, and he was the boy that sent the bad men away. He's my best friend. And right next to him is Ronald, he saved my life." William was in awe at the two men before him. He then pointed to Ginny, asking who she was.

"That's Ginny, the most powerful hexer I know! I wouldn't want to get into a duel with her, she may win." She laughed as Ginny protested using the 'you're the smartest witch of your age' card as her defence.

Hermione was finally reunited with her friends and she was happy. They were there for each other again, the Golden Trio reformed, and she had her best girl friend back to talk to about the more female things in life.

But her smile soon turned sour when a sandy haired man appeared in the crowd. He hadn't seen her yet, but he would. It would be difficult not to see the group, considering there was two redheaded Weasleys, Harry Potter and a young child whose laughed could be heard a mile off. Hermione's skin paled. She said her goodbyes to her friends and apologised for the rushed exit. Picking up William so that the trip to the apartment would be quicker, she looked up to see Draco Malfoy staring at her. She quickly turned and hurried away, but she caught a glimpse of him walking towards her.

After what felt like a long time, she arrived at her front door. She fumbled with the lock, and when she finally got in she ran straight to William's room, sitting him down quickly to tell him not to make a sound and to stay here until it was safe. The boy nodded his head, a look of confusion on his face. Hermione stayed there holding her son until the banging on the door started.

"Muffliato" she whispered at her son's closed door. He didn't need to hear this.

"Granger, open this door now! I demand to see my son! Open this door or I will blast it open! Granger! Bombar-"

She opened the door with a huff. "Oh for goodness sake Malfoy the door is open! What do you want? Tell me the truth, why are you really here? You didn't want to know three years ago, so why now? What the hell do you want with my son?" Her rage built up and she had to stop herself from beating the hell out of him.

"He's my son. I want him to live at Malfoy Manor with me, where he belongs. He is a Malfoy and I will not have my son living with a filthy little mudblood." She flinched at the word and he smirked. The smirk brought out an anger harsher than she had ever imagined. That smirk made her blood boil, and she wanted to rip it of his evil little face.

The anger reflected in her now raised voice. "I am his mother! He is my son! I will not have him taken away from me! You've taken so much away from me and I'm through with it. You won't take anything away from me ever again! I won't let you! Now why don't you just turn your rich little arse around and remove yourself from my home. You will not harm me or my family ever again, do you understand? Now leave!" The last word was practically screamed, and the shrill voice made Malfoy flinch, and Hermione felt pride at herself for the first time in years.

"I am entitled to see my son, I am his fath-" She interrupted him with a sharp slap across his face.

"You will never be his father. It may be your blood that runs through his veins, but he is no son of yours. You lost your rights to him when you forced yourself on me. My son will never live with a monster like you, he will not share your personality, and he will not share your name. Just leave, while you still hame some semblance of dignity."

Malfoy still refused to budge, his face was set like that of a child who hadn't got its own way. With a simple flick of her wand his body went rigid. Another flick and she levitated him down the stairs and tossed him into the gutter.

Hermione returned to her son, a huge grin on her face. She picked him up and gave him a big hug, before taking him back to the cafe where she saw Ron Ginny and Harry looking confused. She explained her rash exit, and they all laughed. Life would soon return to normal, and Hermione was grateful for such wonderful friends.

And as for Draco Malfoy…

"You have been charged with 3 counts of rape and 7 counts of assault. The Wizengamot finds the accused guilty and is now sentenced to 10 years in Azkaban. Take him away."

The End


End file.
